Shutting the Book
by nathaniel.hp
Summary: What happened to Remus after the fight in the Department of Mysteries? How does Remus deal with losing Sirius? Implied Remus/Sirius


**Shutting the Book**

There hadn't been much to pack. Not that he would have spent too much time gathering his belongings anyway; he simply wanted to flee. Just leave, run away, hide, not deal with it.

After the 'Ministry Incident' - as he had decided to call it, much easier that way - he had returned to Grimmauld Place. Why, he did not know. To retrace something, to find someone he knew was gone forever. Or maybe simply to fetch the things that he couldn't do without.

He quickly gathered his books, documents and a few items of clothing from his small bedroom. No looking back, no time to let it all sink in – the veil; Sirius laughing; the look of shock and realisation on his face with the smile never quite leaving it; Sirius slowly, slowly falling backwards – so slow it was painful to watch, yet too fast to reach him in time - Harry sprinting past him, unaware that there was nothing he could do. Remus himself had known the instant that Sirius passed through the veil that he would never see him again. Not in this life. He knew, but he wouldn't allow this fact to settle in his mind. He willed himself not to think about what had happened, what this all meant.

He would run away. As he had done before. Whenever he felt the need to protect himself, he sought solitude rather than risking getting hurt. Before he was fully aware of it, however, he found himself slowly making his way up the stairs with legs of lead, up towards Sirius's bedroom – the bedroom they'd shared.

He wasn't even sure he was really there. He found himself lying on the bed, breathing slowly and staring at the canopy, unblinking, unseeing. He could smell Sirius. Calmness took hold, a calm so profound, he didn't think he'd ever felt anything remotely similar. He remained just so for a while, enjoying the moment. Upon realising that was exactly what he felt – enjoyment – Remus frowned. This was not right. He quickly dismissed the possibility of having lost his sanity – he had lost enough already today. Best not go there, not now. He let the calm take hold of him once more. A couple of deep breaths later, he sat up with a sigh. One last look around, then he'd go. He didn't plan to return either, not if it could be helped.

He had inherited a little cottage from his grandparents. Small, simple and remote. In other words: perfect. A couple of Order members knew where it was, but he didn't expect them to disturb him. Tonks and Kingsley knew of the cottage, as well as of his relationship with Sirius. They'd know, he hoped, not to disturb him for a while.

Remus did not really remember the first couple of days, or had it been longer? Most of the time he simply curled up in bed, hugging the blanket, daydreaming. He was lost in the past, the present too painful and the future – what future could there be? He made himself comfortable in a kind of limbo, neither here nor there – nothing was of consequence. Thirst forced him to abandon his little enclave so he slouched over to the bathroom, careful not to look at himself in the mirror. That would only make it real. He knew he must look terrible.

He was vaguely aware of a painful transformation, of the wolf lamenting the loss of his mate, howling, hurting himself. Remus ignored the wounds as he continued his lonely vigil.

After a while, he forced himself to live something that resembled a normal day. He got up in the morning. He had breakfast, even though he was not hungry. The toast seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth; he was unable to swallow, and more than once he had run up to the bathroom and been violently sick. He tried to read, do something to distract him from the thoughts that were always, constantly looming just out of reach, threatening to overcome him. He felt like he was fighting a constant battle. There was an uneasiness that accompanied him at all times. The feeling seemed to settle just below his ribcage - heavy, yet strangely alive at the same time. His throat felt raw and tight, and sometimes his stomach cramped up, forcing him to curl up into as tiny ball as possible, waiting and holding on as the waves of pain shook his body. In his exhaustion he drifted off to sleep – though it was not restful sleep - or stared at nothing, slumped on the couch, a miserable heap of humanity.

Then came the anger. Seething hot. He had been angry with Sirius often enough, infuriating as he could be, but this just topped it all. Remus was shaking with anger, and he could no longer hold back the feral scream that seemed to go on forever without relieving his anger even a little bit. "You bastard," he screamed. "Why do you do this to me?! I waited for you, you only just came back, and now this! Fuck you, Sirius Black, fuck you! You're not worth it, you're nothing but trouble. If I could get my hands on you …" Remus growled and punched the wall in anger, again and again, kicked it too, until he sank down to the floor, no longer angry, just tired, tired of it all. What was the point of all this? There wasn't one anymore.

As the days wore on – he really did not know how long it had been since … the Ministry Incident – it became easier. Somehow. He had breakfast. He went for walks, although he was blind to his surroundings. During full moon, he let the wolf run free. He still stared at nothing a lot. He started to clean out the overgrown garden. It felt good to actually be doing something, but his mind remained elsewhere. More than once, he found himself cowering in the soil, silent tears marking a trail down his cheeks, and he didn't even know how he'd got there in the first place. He'd wipe the tears off his face with his dirt-covered hands and continue to pull at the stubborn weeds. He didn't feel quite so overwhelmed anymore, or angry. He just felt numb – more like an automaton than a person.

Remus sat on the sofa, listlessly flicking through the books he had brought with him. He wasn't paying attention to what he was reading. At least not until a slip of paper fell into his lap. He picked it up without much enthusiasm and turned it over. The untidy scrawl that he saw left him shocked, frozen in his movement, and all he could do was stare. Stare down at the note, a note that Sirius had left for him when they had first moved in with each other after school. _"Moony, I am so going to make you howl tonight! Love you! Padfoot"_

He felt memories rush back. There was happiness; at the same time he felt the sadness that he had buried deep within him spreading, breaking the walls he had so carefully constructed. He did not stand a chance; the shock of seeing the familiar handwriting had shaken him awake and forced him to come out of his trance. His heart was torn apart, unable to hold under the conflicting emotions. His very being ached; this was nothing like the physical pains he experienced every month. It resembled the mental pains that had accompanied him since the Bite. The finality, the inability to change the situation.

A sob escaped him. He hadn't cried in all those years after Sirius went to Azkaban. As if he had known that Sirius would one day be back. He had cried silent, unconscious tears since he'd been at the cottage. Now, for the first time in years, he felt all the bottled up emotions break free. He had lost the one person he had loved more than he would ever be able to put into words. Again, and this time forever, Sirius left an emptiness that could not be filled with hope, let alone with another person. No one would be able to take Sirius's place.

He felt like he was drowning, waves of despair crashing down on him. His body shook with the violent sobs, his throat felt raw. He had difficulties breathing. With every painful sob, with every laboured breath, with every bit of pain that he finally let himself feel, he allowed himself to come back to reality bit by bit.

He must have cried himself to sleep. When he woke up, he felt disoriented. It took a while for him to remember what had happened. Had it really happened? Where was the note? Ah, there. Remus picked it up and managed a smile. He felt grateful that he had memories that no one could take away from him. Having Sirius as part of his life had been one of the best things that ever happened to him. He felt a bit pathetic for thinking like this, but he was thankful for the time they had shared. Sirius would always be a part of him. Nothing would change that.

With that last thought, he felt relief; the weight below his ribcage lifted. Remus knew that he would have to accept his situation. He took a deep breath. There were things that needed to be taken care of, things that were important now. Dumbledore would be needing his help. As a werewolf, he could be valuable to the Order.

Despite having found a reason to come back to life, Remus knew that a part of him would always dwell in the past. He would return to that moment in Sirius's bedroom whenever he felt like things were getting too much for him, to that moment of perfect calm when by rights he should have been in complete turmoil. He would remember happy times at school and an almost normal life in London. In his memories, he found the strength to do the right thing. It was certainly not an easy thing to do. Although he was somehow living his life, he found himself unable to find closure, not as long as he relied on Sirius to give him the strength to go on.

He missed him terribly and was unable to completely let go. Sirius was to him like a good book that he never wanted to end. To postpone the ending, he hesitated to close the cover for good. Every so often, he looked at the last, empty page, his mind still dwelling on what had been.


End file.
